Ravenclaw Chronicles
by Laksya
Summary: We've all heard the stories, we've all read about Harry's mission, the Order of the Phoenix, the Resistance and Dumbledore's Army, about Gryffindor and their fights and triumphs over evil. But what happened to the others? What happened to the people who were never in the Chosen One's groove and ripples?
1. The Boy Who Lived

1- The boy who lived.

In a modest village on the outskirts of London, on the 1st of November 1981, a long night was only just beginning. Roars of laughter and bursts of firecrackers escaped through the open windows of a single house and could be heard up and down the street, a disturbance the likes of which the old village of Tadworth had never known. Music was playing as loud as the speakers could possibly manage, while inebriated strangers danced and sang loudly together with the utmost disregard for the actual rhythm and lyrics. The smell of a huge feast being thoroughly enjoyed clung softly around the house, which was in fact the only one still buzzing with life at this hour.

Other locals crossed their arms and scowled while peeking out of their windows, mumbling things about how life used to be and how young people were ruining the country. But still, as they did not muster up the courage to cross the street and speak up, the party raged on and the frustrated neighbours marched back to their beds and screwed on some earplugs before going back to sleep. It is a fortunate thing they did, otherwise they would have noticed the unusual amount of owls flying around that night. Well, not really flying around, but rather flying directly at one of the open windows and entering the house without a second of doubt or hesitation. Some owls then promptly returned to where they had come from in the first place, but others lingered about and a few of them seemed to stay, perched on the back of a chair or one of the guests' shoulder.

Much later in the night, after the bottles had been emptied and then accidentally broken, silence started creeping back up the street, gaining ground as various guests left the house. Most peculiar guests at that, as nearly all of them were clad in robes and some of them even had pointy hats screwed onto their heads. Not the funny-party-type pointy hats either, but rather dead serious black cones that were sometimes decorated with shiny stars or crescent moons. In fact, the only two people not wearing robes but more standard jeans and t-shirts seemed to be the ones waving everyone else off. Dawn was just breaking when the last guests left, about as well as can be expected when leaving a party at 6 o'clock in the morning. As their friends trudged and zig-zagged down the street, Samuel and Alice Manish made their way back into their home.

The living room was utterly unrecognizable. The couch, end table and dining table had been pushed aside to make room for dancing, but it had not occurred to the ones responsible that the glasses and bottles might spill and break if not removed prior to the operation. Confetti were absolutely everywhere, as advertised by the cat walking by in disbelief: pink and blue confetti were heavily tangled in his raggedy white hair, and he didn't seem to be able to get rid of them. The ground was filthy and sticky and had turned a very interesting maroon colour, the amount of dishes needing washing was discouraging, and a few of the window curtains had been set ablaze by unwitting smokers. In short, the whole place looked ransacked.

Alice turned to her husband with a grin on her face, just a bit too large to be an honest one. Samuel stared for a while, amused. "Should I take care of it, then?" he asked matter-of-factly. "Unless you want to ruin the mood, I'd say that's a pretty good idea. For once, a little help would be appreciated" replied Alice as she gave him a kiss on the cheek "besides, there's someone I have to check on. Can't believe she's stayed quiet this whole time!"

Sam marched into his study for a few seconds, Alice could hear him rummaging through his desk drawers. He came back a victorious smile on his face, and a wand in his hand. As Alice disappeared from view, he went to stand in the middle of the trashed living room, and gave his wand a wide wave, starting close to the floor and moving upwards. As soon as his hand had started moving, the room came alive. Peanuts and various unidentified food items picked themselves up from the floor and flew obediently into the open trashcan. Plates and glasses gathered themselves into manageable piles and sped off into the kitchen where the tap turned on and the scrubbing brush started doing its job by itself. The furniture returned slowly to its allotted place, hovering gently over the floorboards. Still conducting the whole scene with his wand, Samuel spun around on himself, keeping an eye on the trajectories and behaviour of his household items, ducking when necessary. Finally, when the dishes were clean and put away, and the trash had taken itself out, he lowered his wand, inspecting the living room for unseen messes that still needed fixing. He noticed a generous amount of expensive red wine seeping through the equally expensive taupe-coloured couch. " _Tergeo_ " he said with a flick of the wand, and the wine seemed to jump back out of the couch, drop by drop, and poured itself onto the pavement through the open window. With a final glance around the room, Samuel put his wand away in his back pocket.

"Did you fix the curtains?" sounded a voice from the corridor that led towards the bedroom. "Of course I did, I said I'd take care of it didn't I?" answered Samuel in a self-assured tone of voice while he swiftly got his wand back out and muttered " _Reparo_ " at the burnt curtains. They seemed to flutter for a bit, and then as if with a gush of air, the missing fabric filled itself back in, leaving no trace of the recent burn marks. Putting his wand away for the second time, he walked down the corridor to find Alice walking up to him, a cooing baby in her arms. "There's daddy! Go on now" Samuel grabbed Rhys as Alice handed her over to him. "Hey there baby girl, you missed quite a party!" Rhys seemed unperturbed by this, as she flailed her arms up and down, a clumsy smile on her face. "I still don't know how she got such a good night's sleep, we must have woken up half the village! I told Hestia it was a bad idea to enchant the speakers, what if the cops had shown up…"

Samuel coughed and swung from one foot to another as he answered in his most innocent voice "Weeeell... I _may_ have cast an Imperturbable Charm on the bedroom door..." As he was his wife's eyes narrowing, he quickly added "Just a little one, so Rhys would be able to sleep" in the tone of a scorned child.

"You _know_ I don't like you casting spells behind my back… It's one thing to make chores a bit easier, I won't lie, but… What if people notice and find out? It's bad enough everyone else had their wands out for practically the whole party… And, _really_ , how hard is it to buy a t-shirt and a coat?" Alice said quietly but sternly. She looked straight into Samuel's eyes and he could see her fear.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I really didn't do anything else that you don't know about. Besides, starting today, it's not life or death anymore, I figure we can relax a bit. You-Know-Who's gone, there's no need to hide away anymore. Aaaaand…" he started in a cooing voice as he tickled Rhys's belly " _you'll_ be able to live in peace, witch or not! But just wait 'til you see Hogwarts, best years of my life those were!"

"Well gee, thanks!" replied Alice in a falsely hurt tone, "Besides, you're getting a bit ahead of yourself. We don't even know if she's got magic, she's barely one year old"

"I know. No daughter of mine is going to be a squib!" he said determinedly as he tossed a beaming Rhys carefully into the air, making her choke with laughter.

Alice lovingly watched her husband play with their daughter for a while, lost in her thoughts. She hadn't felt this relaxed in years. _It was really over_ … Changing homes every few months, being so afraid for their lives, for Rhys's...

Although she had not had the slightest idea that magic was real before meeting Samuel, he'd filled her in with great enthusiasm and she had loved it. He was fresh out of Hogwarts at the time, and she had just gotten her DVM. They had fallen in love so fast… And without a second's notice she had given her soul to two very strange things that had seemed to fall from the sky: her husband, and magic. Because how could you not? How could you spend your whole life in dreary, depressing normal muggle life, and not be absolutely awestruck at the sight of your first spell? She had revelled in it, they both had. They both had lived in a perfect little bubble for months on end. But then, things had changed. When You-Know-You had started killing muggles by the barrel, when he'd started torturing half-bloods and muggle-borns… She had gotten scared. Scared of _him_ , scared of _his_ servants and followers, scared of anyone else because how could you know they weren't one of them? She had gotten deathly afraid of magic, of what it could do and how terribly it could corrupt. She had been relieved when Samuel decided it was safer to hide away into rural muggle life. And then when Rhys was born, her fear had made way for panic and anger. Magic would not take her daughter away from her. She had begged Samuel for a zero-magic policy for Rhys's sake, and he'd reluctantly agreed, unless the situation was dire.

And then, just this morning, the owls started coming in. Alice had panicked when she had seen the first one approaching, worried that it would get them noticed. But when she'd opened the letter, firmly intending to find out who had written it so she could give them a piece of her mind, any and all thoughts left her. She stood, empty, the letter in her hand, unable to understand its content.

 _Dear Alice and Samuel,_

 _I don't know if you've heard yet, and I really hope I'm the first one to tell you because it feels damn good to be giving good news for once!_

 _You-Know-Who has fallen. I'm not clear on the details yet, all I know is that Lily and James Potter were involved and didn't make it, bless their souls. Their son has been placed in the custody of muggle relatives, I heard Dumbledore himself took care of it._

 _This is real. It has been confirmed by the Ministry no more than an hour or two ago, which is why I took the liberty of writing._

 _No more hiding!_

 _Arthur W._

 _PS. I do hope you'll invite me to the celebratory party in the lovely muggle village you're living in!_

Next thing she knew, she was screaming out Samuel's name and waving the letter overexcitedly in his face. As he read his face fell in disbelief, until comprehension dawned on him and the past years washed instantly off of him. "Good old Arthur!" he exclaimed in a laugh, "I suppose he sent letters to let family and friends know as soon as possible, even though the news isn't official yet." putting the letter away, he turned back towards a still dumbstruck Alice, "Hasn't changed much since school really, he's always been one for overboard loyalty! I was always unsure as to why he hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff in the first place…" he said full of lark, before suddenly looking very serious: "We'll have to baby-proof the electrical sockets if he comes around."

They had spent the rest of the day putting together the least subtle party they could come up with, to celebrate the end of their hiding days with a bang. This obviously came very naturally to Samuel but Alice had had trouble letting go of the old ways, and although a few small spells here and there were a welcome help, she still flinched every time she saw a wand. For the sake of the party and the guests, she'd contained her anxiety and had only asked them to not fly off or disapparate from inside the village.

For the first time in years, their future was wide open. They had spent so much time focused on the present, neither of them had the slightest idea what to do with themselves.

Samuel seemed to read her mind, as he sat down on the couch next to her while Rhys entertained her many plush animals in her playpen, "things are going to be good" he said as he wrapped his arms around her. "This is a whole new beginning".


	2. The Letter

2- The letter.

"What do you mean, there's a ceiling but there's no ceiling? Is it transparent?"

"Not really, no. It's there, there's definitely a big solid roof over your head, it's just been enchanted to look like the actual sky above it."

"But… Why not just make it transparent? Wouldn't that achieve the exact same thing and be a lot easier?"

"… You think too much kiddo. I honestly don't know, I guess it wasn't really _magicky_ enough for Hogwarts"

Rhys thought about this for a moment. The more her father talked up Hogwarts to her, the more her apprehension grew. Sure, it would be absolutely amazing to see all of the fantastic things he kept rambling on about, but it felt weird. It didn't feel exactly real. She already had a life, and a school, and friends. If she got accepted into Hogwarts, what exactly was supposed to happen? She would just drop everything and go away for a whole year? _For seven years_? Did all the other students really do this? It seemed like a harsh way to start a new school. Of course children who grew up in normal magical families would go, and of course muggle-born witches and wizards would be overjoyed and sprint off to the train station without a moment's thought. But what about the other ones, like her, who knew about and lived with magic but also had their whole life firmly anchored in the muggle world... Did they have second thoughts? Did they uproot everything and decide to become someone else like she felt she was asked to do?

Lying lazily on the couch next to her father, both of them were watching a movie she hadn't the least bit of interest for. Some American blockbuster, he loved those. They were one of the muggle things her mother had shown him when they first met, and he just went crazy for them. He stopped watching them for a while after the divorce, but he couldn't keep himself away for more than a few months. Something about those massive explosions seemed thoroughly satisfying to him.

Her father's apartment was cosy, it had two small bedrooms both connected to a large rectangular living room, with a small kitchen in one of the corners. I wasn't too big but it had ample natural lighting with its high windows, and a nice little yard out back with a life-threateningly decrepit tire-swing Samuel had built with his own two hands, after a heavy row with Alice in which she had implied his inability to do anything whatsoever wandlessly.

"What if I don't get in?"

"Of course you're going to get in! You have magic don't you? Don't tell me you don't remember the, um… _vaccination incident_ " he turned to look at her as he said the last words over-dramatically, his eyebrows raised as high as they could go. Rhys didn't look back at him and so, failing to get a laugh, he sent his eyebrows back to a more standard position.

"Yeah, but… It's not like I'm really powerful. And lots of people must have magic across the country! If they _all_ went to Hogwarts how come there were only like six other people in the same grade and house as you? What happens to all of the other people? Do they _choose_ not to come? _Can you_? I mean, can _they_?"

"I don't know, I'd never thought about it. I don't think the school would _not_ send a letter to a child who has magic, regardless of how little of it he has. At least Dumbledore wouldn't, that's for sure. Don't worry kiddo, you'll get one" he smiled reassuringly at her and tucked her hair behind her ear. Rhys smiled at him and turned her attention back to the screen. She didn't want him to know that _getting_ the letter wasn't the part she was worried about. What she would do _after_ she got it was a lot more worrying, and that would mean admitting to her father that the place that held his most treasured memories seemed less real to her than her muggle life. And that clearly wasn't going to happen.

Raising her head towards the ceiling, Rhys gave a short, high whistle and a small fury creature tumbled down from a corner darkened by curtains. Pixie landed on Rhys's shoulder, and swiftly climbed towards her cheek where she gave her a couple of licks with her tiny, raspy tongue. Pixie was a Peter's dwarf epauletted fruit bat, and as such was barely 8 centimeters high, and loved nothing more than to sneak around her owner's neck, hidden beneath her thick brown hair.

Rhys had adopted Pixie just one year earlier: she had been a present for her tenth birthday. Her father had taken her on a trip to Africa at he time, and while they were staying in a local wizard village they had come across a noisy and surprising marketplace which only sold enchanted creatures and charmed animals. She had walked around for a while, not sure whether she was overjoyed at the sight of all the strange and beautiful critters or angry at the fact that they were being sold like common carpets. There were a lot of monkeys, all of different sizes and colours and most of them obviously unnatural; huge camels with a lot more humps than they should have had; snakes with two heads or a ridiculously fluffy coat; there were even wild cats with bright purple fur, which seemed to sing mostly opera instead of meowing.

At the very end of the marketplace, after having wandered all the way across, Rhys had seen Pixie held in a ridiculously small cage in which she evidently could not even fully open her wings. Pixie had stared calmly at her, and as the critter's over-sized bulging black eyes seemed to bore into her soul, Rhys had broken down crying. Samuel had come along running, his daughter had never been known for throwing fits or even raising her voice, and he became very agitated whenever she showed such signs of helplessness. He spotted her quickly, a small cage held in her arms as she was crouched down sobbing, protecting the item as the old shop keeper yelled something at her in a foreign language - which both Rhys and Sam were very relieved they could not understand.

Ten minutes later, the shop keeper had been paid and Sam was leading his daughter by the hand back towards their inn at a brisk pace, somewhat scared he would have to buy yet more defenseless animals before they could manage to get far enough. Rhys had stopped crying but her cheeks still showed tear tracks, blackened by dust and sand, and her eyes were still dangerously damp. In her free hand, she had held the cage fastened under her arm against her chest. A bag also hung from her shoulder, which contained a pamphlet explaining all about Pixie's species and how to care for her, as well as some fresh flowers and fruits.

Like the other animals sold on the marketplace that day, Pixie wasn't an ordinary bat anymore. She had been selected after weaning, like the strongest among her peers, to someday become a witch or wizard's companion. As such, her rearing had been focused on embedding magic in her every cell, through clever spells charms used on food and environment. The trouble was, this technique often resulted in very unpredictable results and no-one really knew what to expect, other than improved health and life-span which seemed to happen more often than not. Rhys had never yet noticed anything out of the ordinary about her pet, other than the eerie sense of comprehension Pixie seemed to display when listening intently to Rhys's many monologues.

As Pixie settled in, clinging to Rhys's hair, hidden at the back of her head, Rhys smiled at the familiar tickle and told herself she wouldn't be entirely alone, whatever happened. The rest of the evening went by lazily, and after a quiet dinner with her father she shut herself in her room, opened the window to let Pixie out and took out the book she was determined to finish tonight, on which she fell asleep about an hour later.

The next morning she woke up sharply to the smell of pancakes, and her heart started beating fast. Her father never made much of an effort to cook unless something special was happening. She opened her door quietly, peering through the gap to see Sam standing with his back to her, twirling his wand over the stove. She opened the door a little more, holding it back just before it started creaking, and saw that the table had been set for two. In the middle stood a flower in a vase, and propped up against it was a letter. It wasn't a muggle letter either, Rhys could tell it was made out of parchment. She suddenly realised she had stopped breathing. She closed the door carefully and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed for a while. This was it. She was out of time. She hadn't made a decision. She felt like yelling and crying and punching someone all at the same time. She felt utterly lost. Pixie flew down and Rhys held out her index finger horizontally, on which Pixie hung herself upside down. She wrapped her wings around herself and stared at Rhys, who scratched her little friend's forehead, much to Pixie's delight.

Rhys had dreamt of her mother that night. They were all flying in the night sky, her parents, Pixie and herself; they were laughing at the sight of the tiny houses below as they had suddenly been drowned in a tidal wave of owls. They were of every shape and colour, and there were hundreds of them. _Thousands_. Rhys had lost sight of everyone else and had tried to avoid as many of the birds as possible, when suddenly she had emerged out of the water. Looking around she realised she was at a lake where her mother liked to take her for picnics in the summer. But when Rhys swam to the shore, her mother wasn't there. Instead there was a tabby cat sitting on a short brick wall next to a neatly trimmed hedge. For some reason Rhys seemed to remember something peculiar about this cat. Something to do with its markings, or the way it was staring at her. But the dream was already slipping away and she couldn't put her finger on what had seemed so important to remember.

Finally, after having sat around for a while more, Rhys got up and opened the door. As it creaked open, her father turned back and greeted her with a manic smile. He danced around towards the table and pointed repeatedly in a very obvious manner towards the letter. He looked like a rodeo clown. Rhys pushed down the knot in her throat and gave a weak laugh. She came forward and crashed clumsily into one of the chairs facing a plate. In a single wave of his wand, her dad filled her plate with everything that he had been cooking in the past two hours, most of which Rhys knew she wouldn't be able to gulp down. He then sat down opposite her, and stared at her with huge bewildered eyes "Aren't you going to open it?". Rhys looked down at the letter and oddly felt like it was looking back at her. Her name was neatly written on it, above her dad's address and even the description of the room she was staying in. "Well, that's excessive," she thought, "now they're just showing off". She grabbed the envelope under her dad's wild stare, turned it over and saw the Hogwarts seal imprinted in red wax. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were all represented on said seal with their coat of arms. A lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle. "No bat" she told herself, "were do the bat people go?".

She ripped the seal open and unfolded the letter held within the envelope. She didn't really need to read it, her father had kept his and had showed it to her innumerable times. Except for the name, this one was identical. She looked at the list of required books and equipment with a bit more interest, lingering on the next-to-last one: "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" she read softly aloud. "Haha!" laughed her father, relieved to finally see some sort of reaction on his daughter's face, "Another book I entirely failed to read! I remember trying to read the introduction many times, but I don't think I ever actually got past it." he let out another loud laugh "Anyway, that list seems like a lot to go through right now, but don't worry you can still get good grades by just studying for the tests with class notes". Rhys looked up, confused by the inscrutable mystery of her genetic heritage: "No it's okay, it seems really interesting actually." and seeing her dad's smile fall down slightly, she added quickly in a playfully accusatory tone: "I didn't even know there were studies of magical plants and creatures at Hogwarts, all you talk about is quidditch and banquets!". This made Sam roar with laughter once more, and he got back up onto his feet as he answered "Well, they say you should talk about what you know, don't they?". They finished breakfast exchanging playful banter, to Sam's great delight as sarcasm was one of the very few traits and interests he shared with his daughter.

That night, Rhys read her letter again and again, from beginning to end until her sight started to blur out words and sentences and she reluctantly went to sleep. She still had no idea what she was going to do, and no idea how to speak about it to either of her parents.


	3. Diagon Alley

3\. Diagon Alley

A few weeks had gone by quickly, and the last day of July was burning away when another hurdle presented itself. Rhys had taken the very deliberate decision of not thinking about Hogwarts. She felt she had gone through and past the anxiety to the point where she really didn't care anymore, albeit she still had the odd anxiety attack now and again. All she wanted was to be left alone and not have so much pressure on her shoulders. Whatever happens, happens. Of course both of her parents assumed she would be going to Hogwarts, and each conversation grew less and less awkward as she told herself that she would feel a whole lot better if they took this life-changing decision for her. While aware that ignoring the problem wasn't a very mature behaviour, Rhys had once more successfully talked herself into sweet oblivion.

But sweet oblivion had to be let go when it dawned on Alice and Samuel that they had barely four weeks left in which to prepare for their daughter's year-long departure. When Rhys emerged from her room that morning and settled on the couch with her cereal, her father came barging in from the garden. He had a cordless phone in his hand, which he held like it was a highly breakable newborn baby.

"What did you and mom talk about?" asked Rhys, her mouth full of cereal. Since her parents had split up, her father had given up what he politely called "muggle things" (with the formidable exception of muggle t.v.) and the only reason he still had a phone lying around was so that Alice could contact him.

"You, actually!"

"Should I be scared or flattered?" replied Rhys sarcastically.

"You can be whatever you want, we'll still love you!" retaliated Sam as he patted her on the head. "We have to get your school things soon, I can take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow if that's okay? I have a day off work anyway since someone flooded the bathroom and they're taking some time to repair everything. Your mom didn't really feel like going there, _big surprise_ , so she said she'll take you afterwards for a girl's day out, whatever that means."

"Sure. What's the story with all the flooding?"

"I don't really know, and honestly they don't pay me enough to launch a large-scale investigation to find out why a couple of drunk people thought it would be funny to jinx the bar's plumbing system."

"Bummer. So, no free butterbeer tomorrow then? That's disappointing, and here I was thinking you really loved me!"

"Eh, what can you do? I'll give the next one a better try."

Rhys chuckled as she finished her bowl of cereal.

The next day, both of them were up and dressed bright and early. Rhys cringed and held on to her father's arm for dear life as they both apparated out of the living room and reappeared in the Leaky Cauldron's small, derelict courtyard. Rhys took a moment to catch her breath, her head still spinning, as Samuel rapped against a single brick with his wand. As usual, the bricks seemed to spin into place until the archway to Diagon Alley revealed itself in front of their eyes.

Rhys had already been there plenty of times, her father worked here in the Dragon's Pint, and even if he hadn't it was still quite a popular destination for wizard families to spend a sunny afternoon. But this time it felt different. The shops had gone all-out to advertise their goods for the new school-year, and everything was much more animated, loud and crowded than usual. Rhys saw several other children who could be her age walking around, and couldn't help but wander if she would be sitting next to them in a month's time. The first thing they had to buy was a trunk, and Samuel seemed to know where to go. As they strolled down the cobbled street, Rhys felt a feeling of uneasiness bubble up inside her chest. Around her, parents were yelling pointlessly at their children for them to stop running around; groups of friends were laughing loudly as they enjoyed ice-cream, lounging on the terrace of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour; girls squealed loudly with delight as outside of the Magical Menagerie, the saleswoman shoved baby Nifflers and Pigmypuffs into their arms; estranged friends yelled out in surprise as they ran into each other on the street, their voices drowned in the constant commotion.

The feeling of unease grew rapidly and Rhys quickly felt overwhelmed by all of the agitation around her. Wherever she looked, people seemed so happy, so overjoyed at the coming events. She wondered why she didn't feel the same way. Even her dad, judging by the sheepish grin on his face, was taken in by the general euphoria.

Sam led the both of them to an all-purpose shop, obviously trying not to skip as he walked. As the shopkeeper, a short blond man with a kind face in plain black robes, greeted them, Rhys smiled quickly and walked off into the shop. It was much bigger than she had anticipated. Various and seemingly random items cluttered every available shelf space, everything from cutlery to clothes and old board games. A battered set of Wizard Chess was lying on a table, the remaining pieces either snoring or bored to death. As she walked by, a black night sprang to his feet and signaled grandly to her, inviting her to play. The others raised their heads, half-hoping she would actually buy the set. Rhys quietly apologised, feeling guilty, and kept exploring the shop.

She couldn't see her father or the shop keeper anymore, and there didn't seem to be anyone else here. She could hear her dad talking enthusiastically, firing away jokes and interesting stories at an alarming rate. He'd always been that way, genuinely invested in anyone he met, an instant friend. As long as they were friendly and polite, that is. She stopped at the end of an aisle, half-hidden behind a vast pile of old newspapers, to watch them. The shopkeeper had his back to her, but also seemed very invested in the conversation. Rhys watched her father talking, making grand hand gestures while he talked and bending backwards slightly whenever he laughed to better throw his head back. She heard him exaggerate greatly whenever he told one of his anecdotes, as he always did. Maybe they knew each other from school? Maybe they'd talked this way before, in the Gryffindor common room by the fire. As the stories she had heard over the years mixed with reality, she saw them both clad in robes, in a crowded room lit by firelight and draped in red. She imagined them fooling around, gloating about the prank they had just pulled on a teacher, others laughing along with them in hopes of being included in their next act of semi-rebellion. In short, she imagined what all of her dad's stories eventually ended with. And once more, she was left baffled as to how she would fit in such a scene.

Looking around once more, she spotted a large green trunk, somewhat battered but otherwise functional. She waved her dad over, the shopkeeper following closely. Ten minutes later, they were outside. The trunk would be transported to her dad's apartment magically so they wouldn't have to carry it around.

Next they went to buy her robes at Madam Malkin's. After the fitting, as Rhys was exiting the shop, a very rude blond boy rammed her into one of the doors as he strutted in. He turned back once to see who he had just pushed aside, and then turned back, apparently deciding said person wasn't important enough to spare a word. They proceeded to buy ink and parchment, of which Rhys demanded a solid amount, before heading to Flourish and Blotts for the required books.

Rhys loved this bookshop, she had never set foot in Diagon Alley without buying at least one book here. She took in the smell as she walked in, reassuring and comforting. Piles of books towered everywhere, threatening to crush the unknowing crowd at the drop of a hat, but they never did. Rhys had often wondered if they were enchanted or if it was just blind luck. Rhys quickly found all the required school books and then endeavored to look around for a few more she was sure she could get her dad to buy. She climbed up the wooden staircase, lined with rows and rows of novels on either side, and reached the second floor. This was her favourite spot. There were fewer people here, for one thing, most of them were avoiding the crowd like she was. Already feeling better in the hush and stillness of the room, Rhys walked idly along the shelves, stroking the book spines as she read the titles. Once in a while, something seemed particularly interesting, and so she slid the book out gingerly and read both front and back covers. If she was still intrigued, she kept it, if not she placed it back gently on the shelf so that its spine was perfectly level with the others. Out of the ten books she had thus picked out, she kept three: a biography of Scamander Newt which seemed particularly interesting; a fiction novel in which an uncanny group of witches and wizards explored a Universe riddled with irony, sarcasm and cynicism; and a beautifully-illustrated collection of tales and short stories, most of which Rhys had never heard of.

Her bounty maintained with fragile balance in her arms, she walked carefully back down the stairs to find her father once more engaged in conversation with someone she didn't know.

They went through the rest of the list quite quickly, as the rest of the shops were all quite close to one another. When the only thing left to do was to visit Ollivander's and find her wand, it was already one in the afternoon and they were both starving. They agreed to go back to the Leaky Cauldron for a quick lunch, during which Rhys clung to her new books, preferring to keep them reassuringly on her lap. When they got out and started walking towards the shop, fear seized up her stomach.

When they got to the door, Mr Ollivander was tending to another child, her parents beaming at her side. Rhys and her father politely waited outside for their turn, watching the young, fuzzy-haired witch trying wand after wand through the window (the shop was quite small and it would have seemed oddly private to squish in next to them). Mr Ollivander ran back and forth along the many aisles of the dark and stuffy shop, fetching new wands for her to try out. Finally, after having tried out a good dozen with no result whatsoever, the girl gave her wand a small wave and a rain of warm, bright gold sparks fell down around her. She seemed just as surprised as her parents who were standing with their heads raised and their mouths gaping on either side of her. As the three of them passed through the door after the transaction was complete, the girl gave an encouraging smile to Rhys who could only respond with a weak grin as she was very focused on not panicking at this very moment.

Mr Ollivander had walked the others to the door and spotted Rhys, standing on his right side. He leaned forward towards her, his pale blue eyes nearly twinkling like a small river in the sun. "First wand my dear?" asked the old man with a mischievous smile. She answered with a nod and a polite smile, feeling the answer was obvious enough. "Well then, after you" he said, making a gesture towards the door.

Rhys walked in first, followed by Mr Ollivander, and then Samuel closing the door behind him. Mr Ollivander started to walk around the counter to tend to his customers, when he stopped in his tracks. A deep, rumbling noise was growing out of one of the aisles. All three of them froze and turned their heads towards the sound. As it grew louder, they each in turn clearly recognised the sound of an approaching thunderstorm, as the atmosphere in the shop became electric and the smell of rain was suddenly flooding in from nowhere. Rhys was dumbstruck, and Sam began scouring the darkness to find out what was going on. Mr Ollivander, not the least bit worried, turned sharply to Rhys with a crazy grin "I never thought... I didn't think I'd ever see it again! How riveting! Don't move, I'll go fetch it!"

Mr Ollivander walked surprisingly briskly to the aisle where a thunderstorm had just suddenly been conjured into existence, and at once the sounds, the electricity of the air and the smells died away. He came back in the deafening silence, still grinning. As he got to the counter, he handed Rhys a small and drenched rectangular box. Rhys opened it gingerly and stared at what it contained: a dark and grainy-wooded wand, half-floating above the white box stuffing. Its base was thick and covered in symmetrical patterns formed by small vines. "Vine wood." said Mr Ollivander softly, inviting Rhys to take it. He kept talking as she hesitated: "Vine wands are rare, and very peculiar. For one thing, they instantly know a worthy owner if they come close enough to it, and manifest themselves without being handled. I've only seen it twice before. Never the same magic, mind you. Odd things, they are... Incredibly attached to their owner, and finely attuned to their personality. I've found that vine wands often look for witches and wizards of great depth, and they give their very best when yielded by one who strives to look beyond the ordinary and the mundane. You may surprise people more than once, just as your wand may surprise you."

At a loss for words, Rhys finally picked up the wand in front of her, not really knowing what to expect. As she held it, she felt a wave of understanding wash over her. She felt like the wand was an extension of her hand, a lost piece of herself she had never realised was missing. She could feel her blood flowing into it, and the sap of the wood pulsing through her veins in return, climbing up her arm and radiating in her entire body. The feeling died down a little and Mr Ollivander continued: "Vine wood, dragon heartstring, twelve and half inches, supple. I've never sold a vine wand with a dragon heartstring before, I can only assume that this wand will be fiercely loyal... and that you both will be impressively quick learners." Rhys smiled happily but awkwardly at the old man, and turned to her father. He was so positively beaming with pride that it was a wonder he could contain it all, and Rhys failed to hold back a laugh.

Now this had been worth it. Her decision had been made before she had realised it. She knew in an instant no-one in the world could possibly pry her away from her wand, it would be like loosing an arm. There was no going back, and Rhys hadn't the slightest regret in her mind.

She stared at the piece of wood in her hand, and smiled softly. She had been somewhat late to the party, but she had finally found her way and the enthusiasm she had been lacking suddenly filled her up from within. She wanted to see that enchanted ceiling with her own eyes after all.


End file.
